


bathed in sinking fish and sunlight

by tandum (nea_writes)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Child Neglect, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Moving On, Post-Canon, Sibling Bonding, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 11:11:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15169457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nea_writes/pseuds/tandum
Summary: There was a box made of glass.Sometimes, fingerprints smeared the glass, making it visible to outsiders. But when those were wiped away, the box was indistinguishable from air. Maybe, if you looked at it at just the right angle, you could possibly see its glare, but most eyes just passed over it, zeroing in on who was locked inside.Futaba had lived years inside this box, now.





	bathed in sinking fish and sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to P5 fic so forgive me if there's something odd or off!
> 
> _Won't someone spread the ocean_   
>  _over my head_   
>  _I want to be bathed in_   
>  _sinking fish and sunlight_

There was a box made of glass. 

Sometimes, fingerprints smeared the glass, making it visible to outsiders. But when those were wiped away, the box was indistinguishable from air. Maybe, if you looked at it at just the right angle, you could possibly see its glare, but most eyes just passed over it, zeroing in on who was locked inside.

Futaba had lived years inside this box, now.

Sometimes, when the sun was bright and the sky blue and the clouds particularly fluffy, she'd press her hands against the glass, spreading messy stains and smearing its pristine front. On those days, the glass box was just a bit more obvious. 

On days, though, when it rained like they'd torn a jagged whole into the sky and she saw no one and no one saw her, she'd wipe those stains away with the edge of her shirt, huffing hot breath to make it shine like new. On those days, no one saw the glass box.

It was a metaphor, of course. A step up from the coffin one, but where she'd locked her heart away inside a gilded pyramid, the glass box was something not new, but now noticeable. She didn't have to  _deal_ with the glass box when she was slowly dying, but now she wasn't.

Now, there were days where she walked outside, shoulders bunched round her ears, making herself as small as possible to avoid everyone beside her. Now, there were sunny days where people saw the glare on her glass box and remembered she'd not only been a shut-in but still was, awkward and hesitant and scared, eyes locked on anyone who's hand moved too fast in a conversation flying above her head.

There were consequences to not dying. Of course, that had never been written or included in the fine print. No one ever sad that living meant every day was a new stone, a new step, another too-long stare at a mirror unearthed, saying  _you can do it, you can do it, it's okay._

Not that she did that, but she thought of it, could feel it envisioned when she woke up from a deep sleep to long lasting rains.

There were a scant few people who always saw the glare of her glass box. One was Sojiro, eyes too discerning and caring and warm. The other was Ren.

She had some theories on why Ren never forgot the glass box, but she wasn't in any position to pass judgement or assumption. Ren was very tight-lipped about his past, and despite the only blemish on his hard-sought record being his run-in with Shido, Futaba found the absence of proof.

After all, just because no one saw her glass box didn't mean it wasn't there.

Every empty award ceremony, every faceless photograph, every missing post about how much they love their son — Futaba could see now how Ren would end up spending a year away from the hometown where his parents lived. Perhaps they'd never made the news, but the absence of love wasn't a crime. 

Just a tragedy.

Of course you could recognize a glass box when you'd had one yourself — but what Futaba didn't know was how Ren broke it, or even worse, if he still had it. She saw her own, lived every day caged inside it... was it possible she could miss another's?

It was a simple question of just asking Ren himself, but when Futaba thought of someone asking her to explain her glass box, she felt her lips tremble and her voice become ensnared. Even if it was Ren asking... it wouldn't be that she didn't  _want_ to tell him, but that she couldn't. 

Some days she smeared the walls of the glass box and reminded others it was there. Some days, on bad days, she kept it pristine as could be, hands ghosting just shy of its edge. 

In a sense, she'd resigned herself to this.

 

"So?" Futaba pulled the piece of cookie from her mouth, turning it slightly to nibble along another side. It drove Makoto up the wall to watch her do this, which is partly why she kept doing it.  She held the cookie lightly between both hands, feet flat on the booth seat and knees drawn close to her chest as she ate. "What's this all-important meeting for, captain o captain?"

Ren rolled his eyes. He never outright told them to stop, but they all still considered him their leader despite their thieving days being long over. "It's June," Ren said, as if that meant something.

Futaba wasn't forgetting a date, since Ryuuji was always excited when they got together and reminded them frequently enough to aggravate Ann and Yusuke, and she didn't have any chores or errands to run... Futaba twisted the cookie a bit more and nibbled along its side, waiting for Ren to continue when she couldn't find the obvious answer.

It was raining outside, a constant humdrum that managed to become comforting when she sat inside Leblanc. There was a finished plate of curry to her side and a fresh cup of coffee before her, both courtesy of her long-suffering captain, alongside a few short stacks of store-bought cookies.

"January is in seven months," Ren continued, and Futaba nodded very slowly, as if he'd made a profound statement. She turned the cookie a bit more, nearly reaching the edge of its circumference. Ren sighed and reached for one of the stacked cookies, dipping it a bit into his coffee before taking a bite, its hard edge snapping off between his teeth. 

For some reason — that he was delaying what he was about to say, the already-made coffee and curry waiting for her, the empty cafe, the obvious presence of comforting details — it all set her on edge, and for an absurd moment she considered running away and making a mad dash for the safety of her room. Ren had never been someone she feared, but he'd always been the one she hung her hopes on. Whatever he was about to say... was going to be important, and she didn't know if she could handle that.

"Just say it!" She blurted, voice rising high like it did when she was nervous. It was something she'd never been able to quite get under control, and she was always relieved when Ren didn't mock her for it. "I-it's obviously important." Then, after a hard swallow, she stared at her knees, "I can handle it."

Ren took in a deep breath and smiled, disarming, and Futaba curled in just a bit closer. He was going at great length to comfort her before this... this  _bomb_ he was going to drop on her, and it just made her more nervous. "W-what is it... t-tell me before I use escape!"

Ren laughed very lightly, a tiny sound. He was never much for loud laughter. "You're not in any trouble," he clarified, "and nothing's gone wrong. It's just..." he toyed with the broken bit of cookie in his hands, eyes unfocused on his cup of coffee. "Do you remember your list?"

She nodded. Of course she did. Her cookie was still between her hands, all bitten at the edges, but holding onto it kept her fingers still.

"Well, do you remember what you said once? About making a new one... and adding onto it?"

_I want to go to high school._

Futaba inhaled sharply, eyes dropping to her lukewarm coffee as she bit back on her teeth. She'd said that. She'd said that and meant it then, and she still did, but now it was all making sense.

_It's June._

_January is in seven months._

He was asking her to consider... to consider  _going back._

Immediately, without a moment's hesitation, she blurted, "I can't."

Ren considered her carefully, before moving to take a sip of his coffee, a brief respite for Futaba to gather her scattered thoughts. "Why not?"

"It's too early," the words slipped out without prior thought or even consideration, a flood she couldn't contain. "I'm still at a low level and that's a big boss, that's maybe the  _final_ boss, you know? You know, right? It's— it's like starting the game except its a speed-run and you grab all the final weapons but you don't have the stats! Ren you're my final weapon but my strength and hp is still too low—"

His hand over hers was like a physical stopgap to the torrential flood of words, and her mouth snapped close.

"You don't have to," he said, so gentle it made her want to cry. "I... I just want you to know, that if you did, I'd be there for you." She sucked in a large breath that broke a bit at the edges, but he barreled on, "I believe you can do it, but I'm not forcing you and neither is Sojiro. But the option is there."

A choice.

They were giving her the choice to be a coward.

It wouldn't be their turn of phrase and she knew, logically, or from facts, that they wouldn't say that or think that of her, but it only felt like running away.

And  _god_ how tempting that was.

Ren withdrew his hand, a warmth she immediately missed, moving to nibble on his cookie lightly. "You don't have to decide today, but it's a process that needs to start early." 

She'd have to catch up on all the other subjects she missed, math and science not withstanding, and take exams, and get measured for school uniforms, or even  _choosing_ a school, and—

"Don't overthink it," Ren said, cutting off her panicked thoughts. "Leave the logistics to me. Just... think about going to lunch. Wearing a uniform. Being in class and asking the teachers questions too hard for them to answer."

At that, Futaba cracked a small smile. 

He smiled back, hands loosely clasped on the tabletop, always keeping them in sight. She didn't know if that was purposeful around her or a defensive thing he did on his own, but surrounded by empty curry plates, cookies, half-drunk coffee, Futaba realized she already knew her answer.

How could she possibly disappoint him?

She took a long settling breath, feeling her chest tremble and her toes curl in, painfully. "I-I'll go," she stuttered, and the cookie snapped between her fingers. She laughed, high pitched and breathy and short lived, dropping the crumbs on the table and staring at her knees. It was so obvious how rattled she was, it was  _embarrassing._ All she wanted to do was hide, and she brought her hands up, fingers fanning over her eyes. "I said it. Before. So... So I'll go."

"...you sure you don't want to think on it more?"

"No!" She was too loud, dissonant, voice jarring against the rain and making her cringe. "No, if-if I go, I won't ever say yes. I have to say it now. Now, so you can hold it against me if I try to run away  _whichyoucan'tletmedo_ because I'll do it! Escape is always an option in battles unless its a boss because then you just  _die_ and get game over and restart again and again and—"

_"Breathe,"_ Ren cut in, looking alarmed as his hands hovered around her. "Just stop and breathe for a second, okay?"

She nodded jerkily. 

He observed her before leaning back in his seat. Then, as if it suddenly occurred to him, he got up and moved to her side of the booth, sitting oppressively close. This was better, she realized, sagging against him. He couldn't see her face this way.

She turned her face towards his arm, pressing flat against it and shoving her glasses painfully into the bridge of his nose. For a moment, they stayed like that.

In a tiny voice, so small she could barely hear herself, Futaba asked, "You won't give up on me?"

He lifted the arm she was pressed against up and brought it around her, hand patting her head as she fell against his side. "Of course not. It's the boss battle, right? You can't go in there alone. It's dangerous, so take me with you."

That was what finally made her laugh.

 

Despite his compassion, Ren was  _ruthless_ and  _heartless_ and she never should've said yes because she'd made the very basic mistake of underestimating him.

Futaba sat at a table in Ren's room, and over her shoulder Makoto shook her head, then pointed for the fifth time at a question on the paper. "That's wrong, Futaba, it should be like this—"

Ruthless, heartless, cold-blooded tyrant had made  _Makoto_ of all people her tutor. 

"It's like the shady arms dealer on the roadside," Futaba muttered beneath her breath, erasing the chemical formula she'd drawn. "Deals too good to be true and then he turns into the assassin that'd been tracking you since you left."

"But if you defeat him," Ren pointed out loudly from where he lounged on his bed, open textbook before him, "you'll get an amazing item."

That was... true, as much as she hated to admit it.

"...I don't understand, but by applying the critical analysis skills Futaba  _should_ be putting into her literature homework, I can deduce that you called me 'shady.'"

Futaba mock-gasped, eyes darting to Makoto, "Who taught you that word?"

"Probably Ann," Ren muttered, flipping a page.

Futaba clicked her tongue in disappointment. "Ruining the youth, that's what it is."

"Do you even understand what you're saying?" Makoto demanded, aghast and flustered.

"Leader!" Futaba leaned out of her straight-backed chair, dangerously parallel with the hardwood flooring. "What do you say about Ann and Ryuji ruining our lovely Queen's language?"

"Good for her!" Ren said, nodding. "Maybe she's making theirs' better."

"O-ho!" Futaba hummed. "A trade-off, I see."

"And  _I_ see," Makoto announced, physically interjected herself between Ren and Futaba, cutting off the conversation, "you trying to distract me from your work. Back to studying with you, and  _you,"_  she added sharply, pointing at Ren, who jumped guiltily. "Be quiet and work or leave."

"But it's my room!" He protested. Makoto cocked a brow. Grumbling, he nodded and acquiesced, turning back to his book. 

"Tsk," Futaba scowled. "Caught in the act."

Hiding a laugh behind her hand, Makoto taught her the proper diagram of the formula she'd failed.

 

Ren was very clever, which was hard to remember when he looked as rumpled and disorganized as his hair suggested. But Futaba could, in retrospect, see how sly he was.

The bomb of their decision had been immediately followed by Makoto ambushing her with tutoring as often as she could, which could tantamount to  _daily,_ god-willing. If Makoto wasn't demanding she remember the names of the past 10 prime ministers plus their legislative decisions, then Ren was there, gaming the night away or cooking her curry. And if neither of them were there,  _Haru_ was.

She could get Ann or Ryuji being busybodies. That's just who they were, kind to a fault. But Haru had always been respectful of one's personal space. Which was why Futaba was especially confused about Haru's now weekly visits to Leblanc to see  _her._

Futaba sipped lightly at the brew Haru had made — earthy, slightly bitter and too acidic, but she'd paired it with cream which had tempered it, all in all good — and tried to figure out why Haru was frequently coming to see her. She never said why, just suddenly appeared one day, smelling like lillies or some other heavy white flower, and carrying, always, the scent of rain.

Despite being overly blunt and astute with Ren, Futaba tended to shy away from this with others. Demanding things... wasn't easy, for Futaba.

She was desperate to know, because of their entire group Futaba and Haru carried on the least. Not to say they weren't friends, but if you were to use metaphors, which Futaba was fond of, you could say Futaba was like the green chips of modern technology while Haru was... was... well, walking into old cafes smelling like flowers and wet soil.

They were just  _different,_ which didn't mean they didn't get along, but one-on-one conversation had never been Futaba's strong suit nor her pastime. Especially with Haru, who she couldn't relate to or figure out what to talk about with.

It left for too long silences and quickly drained cups of coffee.

Fidgeting in her seat, Futaba glanced again at the clock. Ren couldn't always hold her hand, and especially when it involved other members of the group. But when she felt unsure, or was clamming up, she wished he was there.

"...does this bother you, Futaba-chan?"

Haru's soft voice startled her and she moved to meet Haru's eyes before, just as quickly, glancing away. "Does what bother me?" She said, a little reedy but steady. Stalling.

"My being here," Haru clarified. There was just something so unearthly about her while all at once being incredibly grounding. Haru reminded Futaba of clouds and the pink of dawns and sunsets, of the sun's warmth on a tree. But Futaba had seen the hardness in her, too, of steel lined in silk. 

Shifting in place, Futaba looked determinedly at her cup. There was a chip on it, just slightly. Perhaps dinged while being washed. "It doesn't  _bother_  me." 

"You don't have to protect my feelings," Haru murmured, so unbearably  _sweet_ that Futaba wondered how anyone could believe that line, despite knowing it to be true. Of them all, Haru was the strongest at heart. "I want to help you, Futaba-chan."

Futaba brought her hands up, matching the tips of her fingers against each other. She pushed her hands close, lining her fingers up, then spread her palms apart, until her fingers barely touched. "...help me how?"

"I was isolated in school," Haru said, demure. She held her cup but didn't take a sip, and Futaba chanced a glance up, expecting Haru to be looking away. She was staring unwavering at Futaba, who squeaked and glanced back down. "It's... not something I'm proud of, naturally, but making friends who understood me was... difficult. Especially because of my father." Futaba could hear the catch in her breath, where perhaps she was smiling around her words.

"I can't say it was all him, though, if I'm being honest. I kept myself distant from others because I was afraid they'd... hurt me. Using me, or being false in their intentions. Insincere conversations, or hiding their laughter behind my back... I was scared of that."

Futaba nodded, hands falling to her knees as she listened quietly.

"Ren told us you intended to go back to school, and he spoke to me."

Damn that sly trickster! Futaba had underestimated him  _again._

"He didn't say I had to, but he's worried about you. We all are. And... I thought maybe I could help."

"...how?" Futaba asked, genuinely wondering in what way Haru could fix the problem of Futaba having nearly no friends in school. They'd all have graduated by then.

"To let you know it gets better."

At that, Futaba grew quiet again, finally looking up to meet Haru's determined gaze. Futaba knew the truth of those words. She herself had gotten better. It didn't get easier... but it got better. 

"The world is so small," Haru continued, gaze drifting to the potted plants now decorating Leblanc's counters. "It can become so tiny, if you let it."

Futaba knew that best of all.

"But because of you and Ren and everyone," Haru continued, and oh, oh her smile was breath-taking, lovely and kind all at once. "My world became so much bigger, and I want to help you, too, when you need it or want it."

Futaba thought of Ren and what he might say in response to this, but knew by now all he'd do was duck his head and shy away. So instead, she thought about what  _she_ should say.

Haltingly, quietly, Futaba said, "Thank you."

 

She wasn't built to endure long tense conversations like that, so immediately after she changed tracks so hard the train nearly derailed. In that process, however, Futaba discovered that Haru was not only an apt listener but an incredibly captivating audience at that. There was never judgement, or threat of  _comfort._ Just simple, easy, acceptance. 

Later, sitting beside Ren as they played a game on his old battered system, Futaba loudly and abruptly said, "Haru is dangerous."

Without missing a beat, Ren nodded. "Very dangerous."

"Did you know?" Futaba demanded, shoving Ren hard in the shoulder, though the jerk didn't budge an inch despite having used all her strength. "That she was hiding that One-Hit K.O. weapon behind all those flowers?"

"She nearly got me with it once," Ren admitted, glasses reflecting the screen of the game. "I barely survived."

"Same, same," Futaba groaned. "She should keep that handy for emergencies."

With that, Ren flashed a wicked grin. "Oh, I'm absolutely positive she does."

Which... well, Futaba had only heard good news about Haru's company endeavors recently. Futaba settled, growing very quiet. "...we shouldn't make her mad, like, ever."

"...yeah."

 

Between Haru and Makoto and  _Ren_ my God he'd barely let her MMO in peace, Futaba desperately needed some sanity.

So of course she went to the exact person who didn't have it.

"I'll have you know," Yusuke said in that magnanimous voice of his, "that you are being a disruption to my current workflow," he gestured, grandly, to his messy studio, which doubled as his bedroom if the pathetic sleeping bag in the corner was any indication. "But you loathe the general presence of human beings so clearly there is a good reason you're here, disrupting me at this fine hour of," he glanced out a window, "what appears to be eight in the morning. What emergency dragged you from your cave?"

It was, beneath all the ridiculously long flowery statements, a stellar example that showed Yusuke's character. Caring but unbearably blunt. Futaba sighed in appreciation. Felt good to remind herself how very normal she was.

"Nothing, nothing," she hummed, poking around his studio despite his pleas to not touch anything,  _especially that I've been working on it for a week—_ "just got bored and decided I'd see what you were up to, Inari."

"What?" Yusuke said, with far too much shock. "Boredom is the sole reason you are here cutting the thread of the creative flow I've been cultivating for—  _no don't touch that!"_

It was all in all a good way to pass the day.

 

Time passed in this familiar manner, with various members of their ragtag group forcing their way in, as was usual to her now. In fact, this was how they'd dragged her from her room in the first place. It was only logical for them to repeat a pattern that was successful.

And, as much as she felt indignant in admitting it, Ren's guerilla tactics had helped. She didn't have much time to devote to panicking when they were there every step of the way, with comfort and laughter and food and trips to increasingly further and busier places.

It felt, as summer faded and autumn approached, that she was ready. For this. For a new life. For her to... move on.

Futaba had no doubts that she'd pass the entrance exam. Makoto was ruthless in her education, and Futaba had her mother's mind. Her mistakes were due to not knowing the material, not because she couldn't understand it, and the more she learned the less likely that became. 

It was the last summer rain, and the last day of Ren's holiday break before his last semester at Shujin. They wouldn't attend together, when Futaba passed the exam and got admitted. 

For a moment, she tried to envision herself in the Shujin uniform. Wearing a skirt and stockings. Ann had already taken her aside to discuss 'customizing' her wardrobe. 

Sitting on the attic floor with their backs against his bed, Futaba fumbled with her hands. 

"What is it?" Ren asked, after the silence had lasted too long. Ren had infinite patience, but he'd asked for Futaba's sake, not his own.

Instead of answered, Futaba stretched her hands out, fingertips pressing up against the glass wall.

There had never been a glass wall. It'd only been a metaphor. But she still had to break it.

"I've leveled up," Futaba said, voice wobbling. She still needed to work on that, but around Ren, it was okay to be weak. "I got all my stats up — my strength is higher than my stamina but my defense is up pretty good too — and I got all the weapons. And I'm not alone." She glanced at him, chancing a hesitant grin. "I've got my legendary sword beside me, too." 

He grinned.

"So... so, I can do it," she said, looking forwards and at the wall she'd sometimes banged against, sometimes hid behind, but always depended on. "But... is it okay," her voice grew watery, reedy already, "is it okay," she continued in a whisper, "to not do it all at once?"

She was terrified. Without the wall, anyone could get to her. Anyone could reach her. She could move anywhere, but there'd no longer be any protection. 

Ren's hand entered her field of vision, wrapped around hers and pulling it between them. Her eyes slowly tracked the path it'd taken until she met Ren's steady gaze. 

"You can always take your time," Ren said, firm. "I still am."

_—what he might say in response to this, but knew by now all he'd do was duck his head and shy away—_

Ren had his own glass box, Futaba realized. It was still there.

But, maybe, that was another boss, for another day. He was here, the way he was, with all their friends, even with the box. 

Maybe that was a boss they could fight together.

It had always been a metaphor, but Futaba lived her life ruled by them. It was the only way she could possibly control them.

Laughing with sudden relief, Futaba nodded, using their joined hands to wipe her tears on the back of his. With ease, Ren directed them to a new addition he'd made to his custom laptop.

It always got better, she knew. One day, that glass box would be in the distant past, just like the pyramids and coffins and the tiny world she'd once known.

It just took a little bit of leveling up.

**Author's Note:**

> Mad shout-out to Pea who forever attempted to drag me into P5. They finally succeeded lol.
> 
> If you ask where Sojiro's at, he's in the background lowkey crying and supporting all this.


End file.
